


On the Conservation of Endangered Species

by MagitekUnit05953234



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, BAMF Prompto Argentum, Bad Decisions, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, M/M, Miscommunication, Poor Prompto Argentum, Prompto is weaker in this than in canon, Temporary Character Death, and unfortunate parenting skills, fear not because eventually we will get, references to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: It was then, huddled on the cracked concrete of an Imperial stronghold with his heart in his throat and his retainers in varying states of disarray, that Noct knew he couldn’t do it again.  He couldn’t see Prompto desperately stitching himself back together with overdoses of elixirs and still dying just because Noctis was too selfish to leave him behind. He just couldn't. No more of this. No more.





	On the Conservation of Endangered Species

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wouldn't post this until it's done but I'm so hype about it that I wanted to put it up early.  
> This is a fill for [this kinkmeme prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=10657850#cmt10657850)!  
> 1/13/19: on hiatus. not abandoned/canceled, promise

For the first few days, Noctis brushes it off. They’re all a tad inexperienced in real fights, so of course everyone is struggling a little. The real world is bound to be much harder than a training room.

Noctis continues to ignore it after The Fall. When someone’s shaken so badly by their entire world being torn out from under them, it’s only natural that they might only land three shots out of six and have to down two potions in rapid succession after missing a dodge. Right?

It isn’t until the raid on Aracheole Stronghold that Noct has to face the facts: Prompto just isn’t strong enough to be on this journey.

Prompto had been guiltily drinking curatives one after the other just to keep himself upright after Noct destroyed the mech that had been defending the generator. Despite Prompto’s skilled shooting and quick footedness, he still couldn’t manage to make it out of any skirmish without injury. Natural talent and a month’s time of rushed drills don’t have a thing on the years of intensive training that the others received. With a heavy heart, Noct kept one eye on Prompto at all times, waiting to swoop in and administer a phoenix down in case everything went to shit.

Everything went to shit. While Noctis was futilely trying to take down the generator on his own, Prompto got cornered by magitek troopers. It only takes a moment, a precious few set of seconds of inattention, for Prompto’s life to be snuffed out with a choked scream and a flash of axe blades.

Noctis isn’t altogether sure what happened after that. Through a haze of terror Noctis summoned Ramuh _~~_oh gods the magic burns through him, tearing his muscles from his bones, there’s electricity sparking down his spine_~~_  and scrambled over charred and dissolving MTs toward his fallen friend, a russet feather set alight in Noct’s grasp. He practically fell onto his knees at Prompto’s side, pressing the phoenix down into Prompto’s still form, trying to ignore the terrifying, grotesque gash in his—

Prompto awoke with a gasp, his wounds closing, his eyes clouded with fear and lit by the unearthly burning of revival magic. Prompto’s right hand rose, first clawing at his own chest then darting up to cling to Noct’s jacket. His fingers closed on the fabric and held on as if letting go meant dying again. Noct laid his shaking hand over Prompto’s and watched awareness slowly seep back into Prompto’s world. The pavement around them burned with the remnants of Ramuh’s divine might.

It was then, huddled on the cracked concrete of an Imperial stronghold with his heart in his throat and his retainers in varying states of disarray, that Noct knew he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t see Prompto desperately stitching himself back together with overdoses of elixirs and still dying just because Noctis was too selfish to leave him behind in Insomnia where he would ~~not be safe, so many people died, only nobles made it out, who would have helped just another poor kid from the slums~~ ~~get~~ ~~out of the city?~~  be safe.

They spend the day recovering in Sothmocke Haven. Prompto is understandably wrung out, and spends much of it sleeping in the tent. Noctis is similarly tired, but being lethargic is nothing new to him. He stays awake, watching shadows shorten then lengthen on the floor of the haven from his camp chair. He has little to do but ponder the look in Prompto’s eyes when he was dragged back from death.

The list of people that Noctis cares about has always been rather small. It sounds callous to say, but when most of his peers only cared about him because of his status, he learned early on to not give out his affections easily. By the time he left Insomnia, the list was terribly small. His father, Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, Luna, Iris, Clarus, Cor. A handful of friendly acquaintances in the Kingsglaive. After the Fall, the list has begun to shorten. Prompto, Ignis, Gladio, Luna, Iris, Cor. The glaives are likely dead. Noctis can’t bear to see the list dwindle down to nothing. His friends are an endangered species, put at risk of extinction purely thanks to their association with him. Most of them are tied to him through royal decree, divine order, or the traditions of a bloodline. Prompto is the only one who can be easily squared away, who can be protected from the environmental deterioration that is Noct’s life with no worse consequences than an honorable discharge from the Crownsguard (if anyone was left to be keeping track of that sort of thing anymore).

“Still with us?” Ignis presses a mug into Noct’s hands, rousing him from his miserable state.

“Yeah,” Noct raises the mug to eye level, squinting at its contents in the firelight. “Hot chocolate?”

“You seemed like you needed it,” Ignis takes a sip from his own mug, which Noct hopes is full of hot chocolate or at least decaffeinated coffee, but knows it isn’t. “Are you alright?”

“Long day,” Noct’s chest tightens at the taste of his drink. Ignis has always been the best at making hot chocolate just how Noct likes it. “I’m good, though.”

Ignis doesn’t press the issue, thankfully. The two sit and watch the sun set.

“How’s Prompto?” Noct finally breaks the silence as the first daemons of the night begin to claw their way out of the shadows beyond the haven’s protection.

“He’s doing well, all things considered,” Ignis glances at his phone. “Gladio says he’s asleep again, but seemed much more coherent than earlier.”

“That’s good,” Noct clasps his hands in his lap, then draws them apart just as quickly. He can’t seem to find a comfortable way to sit, or to rest his hands, or to hold his head. The world feels as if it’s tilted on its axis just a few degrees. As if someone stole into reality when Noct wasn’t looking and moved everything to the left a few centimeters. As if the day was played through a radio just a few ticks off from a station, snowy and obscure. “Look, Ignis. I was wondering if maybe—”

Noct’s phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen in the darkness. He can’t imagine what anyone would be calling him for, seeing as how it’s getting late and the three people who usually call him out of nowhere are all within fifty yards of him.

“Sania’s calling me,” Noct tilts his phone display toward Ignis as if he could provide an explanation. “The frog lady.”

“She’s certainly more than ‘the frog lady,’” Ignis quirks an eyebrow, barely visible in the combined light of the rising moon and the low-burning fire. “She’s one of Lucis’s most renowned experts on the social and physical sciences outside of Insomnia.”

“Yeah yeah,” Noct draws his phone back. “Should I answer it?”

“I would,” says Ignis as the phone stops ringing.

“Shit,” Noct redials and the calls connects in seconds.

“Hello again!” Sania’s voice pours out of the phone, probably loud enough for Ignis to hear despite the phone not being on speaker. “What a coincidence that you called, I was just needing you!”

“You called me first,” Noct mumbles, casting a beseeching look at his advisor.

“So I did,” Sania agrees. She doesn’t say anything more.

“Uh...what do you need?”

“Loads of things! But what’s captured my interest right now is the legendary rainbow frog.”

“Okay,” Noct will honestly take any activity not about to send his party running right into the jaws of a bandersnatch or any other adjacent monstrosity.

“There’s nary a reliable eyewitness account, and the only clue I have as to their habitat is ‘water.’ That’s it!” Sania sighs, the breath a loud crackle twisted by poor signal. “Useless, I know… but that’s where we are without the data to narrow down the search. Be that as it may, I can’t bring myself to give up on the critters. Even if they’re more elusive than anything, I have my pride as the foremost authority on frogs.”

“Right.”

“So, I leave the search to you! I’m looking to collect three of them. Not much info to work with though, so you’ll just have to play it by ear,” Sania continues on as if Noct had already agreed to do the job. He’s never turned her down before though, and he has no plans on doing so now. Might as well.

“We’ll do our best,” Noct grimaces but agrees readily enough. Astrals know there’s a thousand and one places with __water__  in Eos but by the gods if Noct could have a legitimate excuse spend a day digging frogs out of mud instead of dragging his friends away from the afterlife he’d kiss Bahamut personally.

Noct exchanges a few more incredibly awkward pleasantries with Professor Yeagre —what was __up__  with that woman?— and hangs up, leaning back in his chair to look at the stars. “Well, I guess I know what we’re doing tomorrow.”

“We’ll have our hands full for more than just tomorrow by the sound of it,” Ignis says, though he doesn’t sound nearly as exasperated as he probably thinks he does.

“That’s not so bad,” Noct sighs. “We could probably use a break.”

“Indeed,” Ignis says.

If Ignis wants to bring up their previous interrupted conversation, he makes no sign of it for the rest of the evening.

Noct begins to regret his life choices by hour four of scouring small ponds in Duscae. Prompto had been lively at first, joking and mock-complaining in equal measure, but now he’s mostly dropped silent other than speculations on whether it’s worth checking if ‘that weird shaped white lump in the water over there’ is a frog or not. It never is a frog. Usually it’s a rock. Gladio stopped joking about it after the third occurrence. Ignis hovered on the edges of the muddy waters, alternating between peering at the ground or peering at his phone. He had Sania send him as much information on the frogs as she could earlier in the morning, but it had all been upsettingly vague or unhelpful. The report that there were likely twenty or less rainbow frogs alive in the entirety of Lucis hadn’t exactly helped morale.

“I think I found one!” Prompto says for what must have been the fifteenth time in the last half hour.

“I don’t hear anything,” Noct abandons his search of the west bank anyway and wades over to join Prompto. “Where is it?”

“Behind that rock,” Prompto’s lowered his voice to his best approximation of a whisper. “See? By the fence.”

Noct circles around to get a better look. “I don’t see it.”

“You might need glasses more than I do buddy,” Prompto shrugs. “I’ll get it. I swear it’s not a rock this time.”

Prompto starts off in the direction he’d indicated, muttering under his breath about water soaking into his pants. Unlike Gladio, he hadn’t opted for changing out of his long pants and he didn’t stay on shore like Ignis did either. He’d been weirdly adamant about it.

There were some things about Prompto that Noct would never understand.

“Got it! I __told__  you!” Prompto emerges from behind the fence with a wriggling, lightly iridescent amphibian clutched high above his head. It croaks morosely as Prompto beams. “One down, two to go!”

Noct can’t quite keep an answering smile off his face. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

“We can hope the next should be so easy,” Ignis, being Ignis, tempts fate with an odd sort of professional optimism. The next were __not__  so easy.

“How are you holding up?” Noct hears Gladio’s voice, softer than standard, behind him from his resting spot on the bank of yet another pond. Noct turns to answer and is surprised to see Gladio’s attention directed at Prompto, who is watching the sun set. Prompto’s hands, never still for a moment, wring his wrists over his ever-present leather cuffs.

“Not bad,” Noct can see the flash of Prompto’s smile from the corner of his eye. Noct tries not to look like he’s eavesdropping, turning a little so his ear was toward them and his gaze was toward the water. “Little tired but that’s no problem, right?”

“Tired’s great next to dead,” Gladio says. Noct watches Ignis inspect the single frog they’ve caught so far, looking resolutely unruffled by the thing’s weak attempts at escape from Ignis’s gloved hands.

“Sure is,” Prompto’s voice wavers a little, cracks on the transition between the first word and the second, and Noctis has to leave before he hears anything else.

They don’t find another frog that day, or the next (Noctis argues for taking an extra day than planned to search and wins by the skin of his teeth). Eventually they have to just set the quest aside and return the single frog to Sania. They are paid handsomely, though not what was promised for the whole set of course. Gladio grumbles that a good hunt or two would have been a more profitable way to fill the last two days. Prompto says that it was a fun time looking, even if they didn’t find what they were looking for. Noct agrees to keep an eye out for more frogs.

On their way out of Meldacio, Prompto breaks the blessed silence in the car ~~they hadn’t had a moments peace from croaking since they found that damn frog~~. “Hey, you think we can stop for a bite before we go?”

“We’ve got the money,” Noct summons the group’s collective wallet —usually only ever seen in Ignis’s hands, with any alternative claiming met by hopefully hyperbolic death threats— and rifles through it. “There’s enough here to eat out for a week straight if we wanted.”

“Which we won’t,” Ignis interjects, though he does pull over to park in front of a skewer stand Gladio had been eyeing when they arrived at the outpost.

“Thanks guys,” Prompto smiles, big and wide as he gets out of the car, and Noctis can almost forget the look of Prompto’s eyes without the light behind them. “We might be able to pick up a hunt while we’re here, too! It’ll be worth it.”

Despite the enthusiasm over the pit stop, Prompto doesn’t seem too excited when confronted with the skewers Gladio happily ordered while hashing out the details for a nearby hunt. Prompto dabs at his portion with a napkin, making faces at the grease soaking into the paper.

“You know what this is?” Prompto gestures at Noct with the skewer, talking around a mouthful.

Noct inspects his food. “Meat?”

“Illuminating. Thanks buddy,” Prompto slides another chunk off his own stick and seems to forget his initial hesitation for it, taking a second bite. “Y’know, it’s not that bad.”

“I should hope not for the price,” Ignis slides into the chair on the other side of Noct, removing his gloves once he’s seated. “For a hunting outpost, meat is more expensive than you’d expect.”

“We’ll make up for it with this,” Gladio arrives with four skewers clutched in one hand and a hunt flyer in the other. He slaps it on the table beside Noct’s veritable horde of napkins acting as an impromptu plate. “Buncha thunderocs nearby. Pretty sum for the lot.”

“Have we fought those before?” Noct squints at the drawing. By Hammerhead, maybe?”

“Different bird, but close enough,” Gladio shrugs. “Doubt they’ll be a problem for us. It’s a one-star hunt.”

“Nice,” Prompto pulls out another sunshiny grin as if lighting up Noct’s whole day is not a big deal at all. “No near-death experiences for us __this__  time!”

Noct’s mood sours instantly at the reminder. He nods, and whatever grim expression is gracing his face makes Prompto’s smile drop.

Prompto doesn’t try to joke about nearly dying again, which is a bit of a blessing. He doesn’t really crack any jokes at all though, even through dinner that night, and Noct can’t help but find it a little eerie.

Noct ends up alone in a camp chair again, alternating between staring at the stars and the embers of this evening’s fire. Ignis asked him to go to sleep soon about an hour ago.

“Hey,” Prompto hovers to the left of Noct instead of sitting down. “How’s it hanging?”

“It’s hanging,” Noct responds in lieu of any real answer.

“Right,” Prompto looks away from Noct. Prompto’s fringe obscures his face. “I know you’re probably wanting to go to sleep soon so, uh, I’ll leave you be… but I just wanted to say that. Um. What happened at the stronghold? It’s not gonna happen again.”

Noct’s throat feels tight suddenly. “Yeah?” he manages.

“Yeah,” Prompto nods. A little bit more of his hair falls into his face, the gel finally failing after a hard day’s work. “I’ll try harder.”

Something within Noct jars lose. A shard of glass perhaps, lodged in his lungs. He feels like he can breathe easier. Prompto is going to try harder to keep himself safe. Yes. Good.

“Great!” Noct responds a little strongly and he can’t help but continue. “I’m glad.”

“I hope so,” Prompto turns back toward Noct. His eyes look almost glassy in the firelight. “I’m gonna be better. Promise.”

Prompto departs as quickly as he arrived, offering a quick goodnight before ducking back into the tent.

The next day dawns bright and early (though a little cloudy, to be fair) much to Noct’s dismay. He’s pulled out of slumber by Prompto tapping Noct’s face with the back of his hand.

“Rise and shine buddy,” Prompto’s somehow cheery and vibrant even at this hour. “Breakfast is done.”

“What time’s it?” Noct sits up then thinks better of it and slumps against Prompto. His head nestles neatly against Prompto’s shoulder.

“Eight twenty something,” There’s a slight pause before Noct feels Prompto rest his hand on the crown of Noct’s head. “You getting up?”

“No,” Noct turns so that he doesn’t have to see the light pouring in from the entrance of the tent. His nose is pressed into Prompto’s collarbone.

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” Prompto’s voice rumbles through his chest alongside his heartbeat. Noct is already dozing again.

“Don’t care,” Noct mumbles into Prompto’s shirt. “Cold’s fine.”

“Okay then,” Prompto’s hand begins to move idly, petting Noct’s hair as if he were a cat. “I’ll just eat it all.”

“Is he up yet?” Gladio, calling from outside the tent, startles Noct badly enough that he jumps, dislodging himself from Prompto’s side.

“Yeah,” Noct replies, rubbing at his eyes. “Just gimme a minute.”

“Oh so you’ll get up for Gladio and not for me? __Rude__ ,” Prompto stands and pulls Noct up with him. “I don’t mind though. I know you like me more.”

Noct isn’t really one to rank his friendships, (all four and a half of them) but he definitely feels like Gladio is more of a brother than whatever Prompto might be.

“I dunno,” Noct stifles a yawn. “Gladio’s never borrowed my one and only special copy of Wyvern Era II and forgot to return it for two years.”

“That was an accident,” Prompto stretches and Noct’s eyes are naturally drawn to Prompto’s freckled arms tensing over his head. Naturally. “I didn’t even get to finish it.”

“You had two years!” Noct busies himself with taking his clothes for the day out of the arsenal. He definitely doesn't peek back at his friend while he does.

“My console broke like two __weeks__  after I borrowed Wyvern Era dude,” Prompto shrugs. Noct catches the movement from the corner of his eye.

“What? Why didn’t you just say so?” Noct turns to fully face Prompto, concealing Noct’s scarred back as he takes off his shirt.

“You’d’ve just bought me a new one.”

“Yeah,” Noct pauses as he wrangles a tee over his head. “’Course I would.”

“Well that woulda been a waste of cash,” Prompto snickers, his voice tipping the scales toward teasing. “What __would__ the taxpayers say?”

“Hopefully ‘thanks for keeping the Wall up,’” Noct finishes pulling on his jacket and turns back around. “You can go tell the guys I’m almost done.”

“Wha— oh! Right. Okay,” Prompto leaves the tent, giving Noct the privacy to finish getting dressed.

Noct feels considerably lighter as he and his friends depart for their next hunt. Prompto is going to do his best to stay safe, and that’s 1/3 of Noct’s mortal fear of losing his friends partially alleviated.

The hunt is at Pallareth Pass, just to the west of a rather severe curve in the road . A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall during the drive between the haven and the hunt, and Noct has to try not to fall asleep to the sound of water hitting the roof of the Regalia.

“This shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Ignis says, pulling the car to the side of the road and parking it inches from the edge of the tarmac. “Stay on your guard just in case.”

The thunderocs are visible from the road, clustered over two ruined stone buildings and a bunch of boulders and shrubs. What’s left of the buildings looks modern enough. Probably destroyed by imperials rather than being left over from Ancient Solheim.

“Let’s do this,” Noct summons his favorite daggers, the Orichalcum set, and reels back for a warp.

“Hold on Noct,” Ignis takes hold of Noct’s wrist and holds him steady. “Take a moment to think about what you’re doing before you throw yourself in. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Alright,” Noct opens his hands and lets the daggers drop. He wills them to dissolve back into the arsenal before they hit the ground. “What’re you thinking, O High Lord Strategist?”

If Ignis is bothered by Noct’s flippant attitude, he doesn’t show it. “While daggers were effective on the daggerquill we fought in Leide, I don’t believe the same will apply here. It may be better to use a shortsword, or perhaps a spear.”

“Got it,” Noct pulls out the Engine Blade and weighs it in his free hand. “Anything else, Specs?”  
”Be careful,” Ignis lets go of Noct.

“Well yeah,” Noct doesn’t waste another second, warping to a stone right in the middle of the flock.

The hunt is a little harder than everyone expected.

“I hate these flying types!” Gladio calls out from where he is pinned against a rock, holding his shield up to protect his head from the thunderoc that won’t stop swooping down into his face.

"Same here," Prompto fires off a few shots, which end up pinging off Gladio's shield instead of hitting the thunderoc. "Sorry 'bout that!"

"Just pay attention!" Gladio responds.

Noct blinks rain out of his eyes and reaffirms his grip on his sword. He darts into the air, feeling the breath in his lungs being wrung out through the process of warping. Being deconstructed, shoved in your own personal pocket dimension, and being reconstructed several meters in the air is never exactly pleasant. Noct has learned to deal with it, but that doesn't stop it from feeling pretty damn awful.

Noct flits from bird to bird in the air, barely catching his blade sometimes. He used to be proud of the airdancing technique he'd managed to create after years of struggling to so much as warp a few feet in an empty room, but now it's just another way to tire himself out quickly when there aren't a lot of other options left.

Noct and Prompto are the two best suited for aerial combat. Noct's airdancing and Prompto's guns are the best suited for the task of bringing airborne monsters down to Eos. Ignis is a great shot with thrown daggers, but throwing them upward with enough force to injure is too awkward of a motion to depend on if you can't warp to follow it up.

Noct isn't sure why it catches his eye, but when he takes a moment's rest on a bolder to the side of the battle he sees a glint of light, and time seems to slow.

One of the last thunderoc has snuck up behind Prompto, gearing up to shoot a bolt of lightning right at his back. Prompto doesn't see it, too busy covering for Ignis as he takes a potion and switches weapons.

Prompto isn't going to react in time. Even if Noct calls for him, he probably would turn toward Noct and not the bird, running all chances of Prompto getting out of this unscathed.

The air smells of ozone. Noctis remembers cracked concrete and blood spilling across pale skin, seeping into black fabric. Flames licking at fingertips. Unnatural storm clouds dispersing into the night. Prompto cannot get hurt again. Noct won't let it happen.

Noct draws back his right arm and warps.

The sensation of warping is decidedly better than that of getting shocked by gods know how many volts of electricity from a monster's mouth. Noct has never experienced any real amount of electrical damage before, even when he was finally getting a grip on elemental magic at the incredibly late age of fifteen. He's immune to his own magic, and Ramuh's was... different.

Someone is calling Noct's name. Multiple someones by the sound of it. Noct can't move, can't breathe, can't even twitch. His muscles are locked up, almost as if he's been petrified. He hasn't, though. Petrification doesn't hurt like this.

There's a shattering sound, barely audible through the ringing in Noct's ears, then another. Waves of cold wash over Noctis, drawing him back into control of his body. He unclenches his teeth and opens his eyes.

"—right behind me! Didn't even say—"

"—can't do this—"

"—was he thinkin'? It's not his job—"

"—sorry, I had no idea—"

"—didn't do a thing—"

Noct blinks, clearing the fuzziness from his sight. The voices around him have quieted. The ringing in Noct's ears is fading. "Guys?"

"Highness!" Ignis is hovering over Noct, one hand pressed over the pulse point on Noct's neck and the other clutching a curative. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah," Noct levers himself up onto his elbows. "Everyone good? Did we get 'em?"

"All good except for you," Gladio still has his shield out. Noct wills it to disappear and Gladio doesn't even flinch. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Finishing a hunt?" Noct take the potion that Ignis hands him, drinking it down. He shudders as it burns an ice cold path down to his stomach then leeches out to the rest of his body.

"You were at the other end of the damn clearing," Gladio points off to the spot. "And you warped all the way over here to purposefully throw yourself into the shot. Why?"

"It was going to hurt Prompto," Noct raises a hand to push his soaked hair out of his eyes and realized he is trembling. He grits his teeth and tries to still his shivering. He settles for pressing him hand back down against stone. "I wasn't gonna have him take a hit like that."

"It's not your responsibility to take hits for us," Gladio holds out a hand to help Noct up and he takes it, if only because he doesn't want the others to be looming over him so much. "If you don't want to see us getting hurt, then don't look. We're going to do our jobs whether you like it or not."

Now that Noct is upright —for the most part anyway, seeing as he's leaning heavily on Ignis— he can see that someone is conspicuously absent. "Where's Prompto?"

Ignis clears his throat. "He left for the car."

"What'd he do that for?"

"He didn't want to look," Gladio claps his hand onto Noct's shoulder. "Let's just get going before you find some other way to end my career too early."

"Right," Noct tries to take a step away from Ignis, but stumbles and nearly goes down. The only reason he doesn't faceplant into the mud is Ignis's remarkable reflexes.

Ignis loops his arm around Noct's waist. "Let me help you," He murmurs, low enough to prevent Gladio from hearing.

It's slow going, getting back to the Regalia. It isn't particularly far, but Noct has to keep pausing to shake the ache out of his overtensed muscles. Gladio's visage darkens each time, so Noct tries not to stop more than he absolutely has to. His knee hurts.

They arrive at the Regalia to find Prompto slumped in the passenger seat, curled against the door. It's hard to tell from the outside, but it seems like he's got his face pressed into his knees.

Gladio knocks on the window and Prompto starts, hitting his head against the window right next to where Gladio's knuckles rapped it. Prompto meets Noct's eyes and smiles shakily, one hand fumbling for the unlock mechanism on the door and the other rubbing at the impact point on his head.

"Hey," Prompto nearly falls out the car in his haste to get out of his seat.  There's something wobbly behind his cheer. "Kept the car warm for you guys! How's it going?"

"Could be better," Noct would kill a man to get a chance to sit —or better yet, lay— down. He's essentially handed off all the weight of his left side to Ignis in vain hope that it'd relieve the rapidly mounting pain in his bad knee. All he'd achieved is feeling even worse for making Ignis put up with his imposition. Ignis would never breathe a word of complaint, not after all his years with Noct ~~and especially not after Noctis's severe depressive episodes in his teens~~ , but it sure feels shitty to make someone who is already a worn from a fight have to deal with lugging you around. Gladio is one thing, but Ignis always seemed like someone Noct shouldn't inconvenience in this way when Ignis has already dedicated ~~his entire life, and boy what a waste that turned out being considering how Noct's doing now~~  a lot of time to serving Noct in everything he thinks of, even when it's not his job and when Noct protests against it.

"Come on," Prompto pulls at Noct's shoulder, separating him from Ignis. "Let's get you sat down."

Noct lets himself be manhandled by shaky hands into the backseat of the Regalia. He lays across the seats with his feet in Prompto's lap. Prompto took Gladio's usual spot, citing Noct's need for extra space to rest. No one was in the mood to suggest any alternative.

Noct really does fall asleep this time, wrung out from the shock he took and the rapid healing Noct was forced to undergo thanks to the the frankly inadvisable amount of curatives he had taken. The next he's aware, he's being taken up a set of stairs in a bridal carry. A ceiling inlaid with gaudy designs is high above Noct's head, growing a little closer with each step.

"Good morning princess," and this is a situation Noct has been in more times than he'd care to admit. He's reclined into Gladio's broad chest, with one of Gladio's arms under Noct's knees and the other curled around Noct's upper back. When Noct was a fair bit younger and a lot more stupid, he ended up being carried to his rooms by Gladio at least four times a month. Noct'd push himself too far during training —with or without Gladio's help, seeing as he once collapsed from running laps for an hour out of spite one time— and aggravate his childhood injuries badly enough that he barely stand, much less walk. It happened more often once Noct entered his final year of middle school and started feeling the weight of his royal life bearing down on him more and more. Training was both an outlet and a burden. For all the good it did as a way to blow off steam, it still reminded Noct that he had no friends who weren't also paid to take care of his life and limb. The fact that the combat drills and sparring were always exhausting didn't help much either.

It's funny, to be back in this position after so long. Gladio can still carry Noct just as well as he ever did back when Noct was much smaller —a stunted youth hindered in body, emotional state, and magic by trauma he tries not to think too hard about even after twelve years. It's unfortunate that Gladio is allergic to shirts these days, though. No matter how used to being perched in Gladio's arms Noct is, he isn't sure that being cradled against Gladio's bare chest is his speed.

It's something to complain about later, at least. The type of petty grievance they can all joke about over dinner instead of talking about how Noct ended up here.

"Hey," Noct blinks up at Gladio, raising a hand to pay his stubbled cheek. "What's this for?"

"Prompto didn't want to wake you up," Gladio dislodges Noct's hand and sends him an eye roll. "Hands off the face."

"Right. Don't wanna spoil your face with my terrible terrible hands," Noct stretches, blocking Gladio's line of sight with his arms. "Since when do you listen to Prompto when it comes to me?"

Gladio clears his throat. "He made a good argument."

They're in the Leville. That terrible ceiling is unmistakable. Somehow, Noct managed to sleep all the way to Lestallum and into the hotel as well.

He's still tired.

"You feeling alright?" Gladio's movement halts and Noct raises his head. They're stopped between the two rooms usually reserved for the four of them, 213 and 215. Gladio starts unlocking the door to 215 with some difficulty, trying to turn the key with both arms still occupied with supporting Noct's weight. "Damn. Shoulda told Iggy to get this for me."

Gladio prevails over the lock, pushes the four open with his foot, and takes Noct to the bed nearest the door.

"Thanks," Noct mumbles into the mattress where he is set down.

"Y'didn't answer me, highness."

"I'm fine. Sleepy," Noct pulls at the soft blankets around him, ensconcing himself in their unfamiliar comfort. "I'm going back to bed."

"Not yet. Iggy's bringing some food over in a bit. You gotta eat something," there's a mechanical juddering and a solid wheeze as Gladio turns the air conditioning unit on across the room. "I'm in Iggy's room tonight, so Prompto will probably be in after you eat."

"Al _ _right__ ," Noct is vaguely aware of the sound of the hotel for opening and closing, the lock clicking into place as Gladio leaves. Noct just wants to sleep more. Now that he's awake, the pain in his back is ramping up again —or at least, he's more aware of it now.

Not nearly enough time goes by before the door is opens once more. Noct doesn't have to look up to recognize Ignis's quiet steps toward the bed.

"Are you awake, Noct?" Ignis's voice is quiet enough to where it wouldn't have woken Noct had he not have been conscious.

"I'm up," Noct rolls over and props himself up on his elbows, doing his best to mask the pained exhale that tears its way out from his lungs. "Hey."

"Hello to you," Ignis replies as he rummaged through the bag he brought into the room with him. "How are you doing?"

"Just wanna get some sleep," Noct knows Ignis won't let that happen until Noct eats though.

Ignis brings a bowl over to Noct, not trying to wrangle Noct into sitting at a table or anything. That's... suspicious.

Ignis managed to make oyakodon in a hotel kitchenette. More suspicious.

"Noctis," Ignis says after Noct has managed a few bites, the tone grave enough to prompt Noct into setting down his food.

"Yeah?"

"Do you understand what you did today?" Ignis pops open a can of Ebony, gloved hands tight around the flimsy aluminum. "What could have happened?"

"I don't know what you mean," Noct diverts his eyes, takes his fork back up, and takes another bite of his rapidly cooling oyakodon.

"You could have died, Noctis. If we hadn't warded that bird off and had enough curatives on ha—"

"Any of us could die anytime," Noct interjects, burying the end of his statement in a new mouthful of food. "I had a better chance of making it than Prompto. I heal faster than you guys. What was I supposed to do, let him get hurt?"

"Yes! That is his job!" There is a metallic crushing noise and Ignis curses softly as his coffee spills out of the open top of his can. When he removes his soaked gloves, Noct can see Ignis's hands shaking. "It is one thing for you to be hurt in your own defense. It is one thing to watch the backs of your friends and work together in battle. It is another thing entirely to throw yourself to your death to defend someone who isn't yours to protect."

"Isn't it my job to take care of my people? I'm not going to stand by and watch my friends die for me!" Noct abandons his meal, his hands flying up to tangle in his hair. He clutches at the strands, yanking at what he can in frustration. "You don't get it!"

"I do," Ignis makes his way to Noct's side and takes hold of his wrists, slowly pulling his arms down. "But you must understand, Noct. Though we are your friends and brothers, we are also your Crownsguard. That is a fact of our lives that cannot be denied. We made oaths to stand by you and protect you always, even at the cost of our lives. You are, by divine right and bloodline's decree, someone we must protect above ourselves. For all that you are, you are also the last of the Lucian line. Our king."

"Don't call me that," Noct pulls his hands back, clutching them close to his chest.

"It's what you are," Ignis says, though his voice is gentler. "None of this is easy, Noctis. Know that I'm not asking you to abandon anyone to an untimely fate. You just need to realize that this is what we will do, and that this is what we want. There is nowhere any of us would rather be than by your side, oath or not."

That has to be a lie. Noct knows how happy Gladio always looks when he's free from his duties and spending time with his sister. How peaceful Ignis love when he thinks he's alone, unburdened by the responsibilities of his post for just a moment. How afraid Prompto looks when Noct drags his friends into yet another close-walled dungeon or daemon-infested cave to search for the remnants of Noct's ancestors.

The ache in Noct's back flares. He remembers the flash of red spattering into the floor by his feet, the blood dropping down Gladio's face. He remembers the visceral fear that clutched at his heart when Gladio finally let himself get looked at in the Citadel's infirmary, certain that Gladio was going to lose half his sight. He remembers dull eyes behind thin-glassed specs, the tired smiles of a teenage Ignis working himself to exhaustion for Noct's sake. Noct remembers countless flaming feathers clutched in trembling hands, the hope that __any second now__  breath would return to Prompto's lungs and he would gasp awake, dragged back to life ~~only to die for Noct once more~~.

To hell with their oaths. To hell with their willingness to die for one stupid kid. Noct can't protect Ignis and Gladio. They're Noct's Sword and Shield. They're bound to him until death.

But Prompto? Prompto __can__ be protected. Noct's thought it before, and now the pieces are falling into place. He doesn't have to die on some battlefield somewhere, or bleed out in a cave from a fucking voretooth bite because they're out of medical supplies. He can live, truly live, in this world without Insomnia. Without Noct. Prompto can make a life for himself in Lestallum, selling photos to that magazine editor down by the outlook. He'd enjoy that, Noct thinks. He always talked about being a professional photographer in high school. Maybe Prompto would meet a nice girl or guy and forget all about the idiot prince he used to lay down his life for. He could be happy and safe.

He can't come with Noct anymore. He has to be left behind. For his sake.

“Noctis,” Ignis raises his voice slightly, drawing Noct’s attention. “Do you understand?”

"Yeah," Noct swallows the lump in his throat. "I do."

"I'm sorry that things are this way," Ignis goes back to where he left the bag he brought into the room with him and procures paper napkins from somewhere. The arsenal, maybe. He begins to mop up the coffee he spilled. "But this is the hand the gods have dealt us. We must pay the game to completion, even if you think the rules are unjust."

"I know," Noct picks up his cooked rice and continues to eat even though the texture is starting to disgust him as the sauce congeals. "Thanks for the food, Iggy. It's really good."

"My pleasure," Ignis connects his things. "Gladio and I are rooming one door down, as usual. Do let us know if you need anything. "

"I will."

"Good," Ignis starts toward the door. "Prompto will probably be arriving in a few minutes. He left to turn in a few photos to Vyv when we arrived in the city."

Ah. So that's what that guy's name is. "Okay."

Ignis leaves a closed container of food on the table across from Noct's bed. Noct watches steam condense under the clear lid as he finishes his own meal.

It really doesn't take that long for Prompto to show up after Noct clears his bowl. He's barely managed to set the dish down before Prompto let's himself in without knocking, stopping like an arba in headlights once he catches Noct's eye.

"Oh hey," Prompto sits down heavily next to Noct. "How are you doing?"

Noct's been asked that far too much in the past twenty four hours.

"Fine," Noct shrugs. "Just wanna get some sleep."

"I get that," Prompto nods, his gelled hair bobbing with the movement. A beat. "Oh! Uh, did you want me to leave you alone then? So you can nap?"

"You've never stopped me from falling asleep before," Noct says. It's true enough. He spent many an afternoon fixing against his friend because Noct's chronic exhaustion caught up with him and he was too stubborn to tell Prompto to go home to his empty apartment. Noct __has__ lost plenty of sleep thinking about Prompto, though. Just because.

"I don't think anyone 'cept Iggy can stop you from sleeping," Prompto laughs, quiet and light. "You think your royal title or whatever will be The Sleepy?"

"Noctis the Sleepy?" Noct considers. "Nah. They'd want something more formal."

"Noctis the Fatigued?" Prompto suggests, elbowing Noct below the ribs.

"That works."

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while. Prompto let's Noctis lay his head on Prompto's shoulder for a while before Prompto's voice startled Noct out of his near-slumber.

"Hey," Prompto jostles Noct a little as he twists the bracelets around his wrist. "I just wanted to say... um. Thanks. For earlier, I mean. The hunt."

This is it, isn't it?

"I actually," Noct pauses. Damn, why is this so hard? He's doing the right thing. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that."

"Okay," Prompto's fidgeting stills for a moment before he begins to spin his bracelets in the opposite direction. "What is it?"

"I don't think you should come with us anymore," Noct blurts, sticking not only his foot but half his damn leg in his mouth. "On this trip."

"Oh," Prompto looks away and Noct wishes that Prompto's fringe didn't cover his face so much from this angle. It's almost a mirror of when Noct and Prompto talked just a few weeks ago on the roof of a different hotel.  "Yeah, I— yeah. I get it."

For his sake, Noct reminds himself when he hears the hitch in Prompto's breathing.

It's for his sake.

Prompto must talk it out with the others as Noct sleeps off the lingering effects of his stint as a meat shield, because neither Gladio nor Ignis protest Noct's decision in the morning. Ignis asks him if he is sure, and that is that. Prompto doesn't ask him much of anything at all.

It's decided that Prompto will stay in Lestallum with Iris and the Hesters. They don't cut him off from the arsenal, and they don't take his fatigues or his Crown-issue phone, even though he isn't part of the guard anymore. His guns are left where they are in the void.

Cor counts it as an honorable discharge, probably due to both Prompto's joining with the guard and his dismissal being purely Noct's fault. Cor doesn't seem too pleased with the fact that Prompto is leaving Noct's retinue, but whether his displeasure is from personal attachment or the sunken cost of time spent personally training Prompto is anyone's guess.

Prompto's grin seems tacked on all morning, but the only complaint he makes is that he wishes he wasn't missing the wedding. Noct's only response is that going to Altissia is probably going to result in something more like a rescue mission than a wedding at this point. Prompto gives Noct an envelope full of printed photographs anyway, with the instruction that Noct is to give it to Luna. Noct says that this won't be the last time they see each other before they leave for Altissia. They'll be coming to Lestallum plenty more.

Prompto says it's just in case.

With a thick packet of photos tucked in his pocket and a tight feeling signing a lease in his ribs, Noct leaves Lestallum with the Regalia's passenger seat unfilled.

He didn't expect how much emptier it would feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter [@compromisedunit](https://mobile.twitter.com/compromisedunit)!


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